To all my dear readers, I present a Sansa and Robb fanfiction. And no, it's not bad, just different.

Just want to point out that I based it off both the TV show and the book and I did use alot of the dialogue from the book but rewrote the reactions of some characters. Anywho, I don't won anything and I still hope that the experience of reading this short fic will be enjoyable to all!

WHACK! Robb felt the impact of the hit run through his arms and down through the rest of his body into the ground. Angry, wrestling his sword from the wood, he swung again, wanting the tree to feel as much pain as any Lannister will. Damn them! Damn them all! They had his father, his sisters, all in the Red city. And now, he knew that they had destroyed any hope he had of making a peace, destroyed it by beheading his father. That stupid, spoiled, good-for nothing brat Joffrey, the boy who wanted to play with real steel, he still had Arya and Sansa. Sansa. The thought of her in that city with the young bastard made Robb's blood boil and the next whack came with more force than before. Why, why did his father have to drag Sansa to the capital with him?

WHACK! Robb had never admitted to anyone, not even Jon or Theon, about his love for his sister. It was weird, it was forbidden, he knew perfectly well that nothing would come out of it yet he couldn't control his feelings. The moment she had seen that blond child atop a white horse, the Hound riding behind him, she was drooling over him, not understanding what exactly that was doing to Robb who, silently, stood beside her, glaring. In the fencing yard, when he duelled with Joffrey, he was the winner but she was never there to witness it...never. When she did come out to watch, Joffrey instantly started to yawn and dare the older boy to fence with real steel instead of the hard, polished wood that was offered. And Sansa still favoured that...that...that BOY when Robb had been with her and was a man.

"I hate him," Robb muttered, his sword biting into the tree again and again, chunks of wood flying in all directions. He couldn't get the image of his sister, her young and beautiful face out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" Beside him, Grey Wind sat with his yellow-gold eyes trained on his master, never blinking, holding understanding and regret, pain and comfort. He missed Lady, Robb realized as he stopped to wipe sweat of his forehead. Grey Wind and Lady had been the most faithful companions, playing together when the children were busy, both beautiful and strong, gentle and yet so much in love – at least on Grey Wind's side. Puppy love, just like Robb.

"DAMN YOU LANNISTER!" Robb screamed, Grey Wind howling right along with them, the anger ringing through the trees before fading into an empty quietness. Exhausted, Robb fell to his knees, breathing hard, his dark auburn hair matted with sweat, his blue eyes glistening with hidden, unshed tears. Sansa would have hugged him then, would have maybe even kissed his cheek. They were close, perhaps not as close as Robb was with Jon, but close in a different way. Around Sansa, Robb could be himself without pretending, without caring. He could cry before her without being afraid of being weak. She knew his passions and preferences as well as he knew hers, she knew what he loved as he knew what she did. They argued about almost everything yet he always gave in to her in the end, not only because he knew that it was what was expected but because it was right. After that she would usually smile and laugh, teasing him about being unable to stand her charms and skipping off in her natural and elegant manner to see the septa or their mother.

Standing up, tears threatening to once again escape his eyes, Robb swung the blade. The anger, the pain, the overwhelming desire to kill made the weighted training weapon feel like a feather in his hands, the wolf patiently sitting at a distance, his eyes once again following the movement.

"Robb?" he heard his mother call from the left but he ignored her, striking the solid bark of the tree with as much force as he could put behind his attacks. All he saw before him was Joffrey's crooked, triumphant smile, his green eyes narrowed and content. He looked a Lion, a darn Lion and Sansa was with him. "Robb!" He continued killing and yet the boy continued to look at him from above, as if the slashes from the sword were nothing more than gentle touches. Actually, in Robb's eyes, the want-to-be king seemed even more victorious as Robb laboured, his smile growing and growing, his mockery almost unbearable. The hits came faster, the tears were almost about to break free, the whole world seemed to wring with 'Welp! Looser! Weakling!' "Robb!" his mother's final scream made him turn around, breathing hard, facing her gentle, green-blue eyes that were puffy and red. "You've broken the sword!" she said gently.

He glanced down to see that the top inch of the metal, the steel that never seemed to be able to break, was cracked, almost falling off. The sword that had carried him through all his battles, the one that seemed to be the reminder for what he stood for was wrecked. That broke him. In anger, Robb threw the sword to the ground, his face displaying his anger, his betrayal, his lost hope. He wanted to be strong for everyone, be like his father and yet, when his mother understood, he couldn't bear to be anything else any longer. He shakily started to walk towards his mother, tears now running down his flustered cheeks, his heart racing.

"Shhhhhh," Catelyn Stark whispered as she embraced him in her arms, Robb once again becoming a little boy. How happy he was when he found out he had a little sister though scared as well. He was probably even younger than Rickson when that happened and when he thought about it then, he thought that his parents didn't love him enough, weren't happy, needed someone else. His mother had done the same then, wrapping her arms around him like a protective shield, hugging him close, whispering encouragement. He remembered her smell, the same one as now, the same flowery and yet frosty scent that combined the Northern lands and the land where she grew up. Now, taller than her but no less the boy, Robb cried into her shoulder as she gently caressed his deep red curls and his back.

"I'll kill them all," Robb promised, sniffing as he sobbed, knowing that he meant it. He wouldn't rest peacefully until he killed all those responsible for the death of his father, the capture of his sisters and the pain of deception, inflicted on one of them. He would kill any Lannister that got in his way, be it Jaime, Tyrion, Cersei, Joffrey...He didn't care. All he knew at that moment is that none of them would survive. "Every one..." he managed in a deadly whisper, not bothering to realize how many Lannisters there were in the Kingdom. "I'll kill them all." He repeated again, his tears not stopping, his unshaven cheek pressed into his mother's warm, fur-lined dress.

"My boy," his mother spoke softly, her gloved hands still caressing him, hiding her own hurt behind that mask of comfort and strength. "They have your sisters," she reminded him and Robb's heart froze. Why would she remind him? He knew that. He wanted to kill the Lannisters to save them, save her. Damn them all, he hated them! He wished that they would burn in hell. He had the most craziest desire to run to Ser Jaime now and cut his throat but he knew deep down that that would certainly kill Sansa. So he stayed quiet, the burden of his heart heavier than ever. "We have to return them," Catelyn's voice had the Stark's quiet strength, the Tully's promise. She didn't tell him that everything would be alright, didn't tell him that he couldn't avenge his father, didn't mention that he was still a boy. Perhaps a boy that was a man more often than not but a boy none the less. His father taught him much and yet he didn't teach him enough. Robb cursed the Gods, both new and old, for taking away his father and the support he offered. For taking away his source of knowledge. They stood there for a while, the young man crying, the woman looking over his broad shoulder with a faraway gaze, her hand stroking her son in console. "And then we'll kill them all, every last one." Her voice was strong, bringing back to reality. Robb continued to cry but his brain slowly came back to the present. He couldn't help his dad but he could help his sisters. He couldn't make a trade of the Kingslayer for Ned Stark but he could save Sansa and Arya. He couldn't know all the things about war but he could listen, look and learn. And he could lead the army to victory. He knew that much, even though it did require more confidence than he had at the moment. Something wet touched his hand and he looked down to see Grey wind's nose pushing into his hand, the golden eyes mirroring his own decisions.

"I know mother," Robb whispered quietly, his breathing still irregular but his eyes got back their cold, unwavering gleam. "I might not get my father back, but the girls will return to you, or I am not Robb Stark." He took a step back, the wolf following to stand beside him, fur slightly raised, making him appear larger, fiercer, deadlier. "I know that I have acted irrationally but I shall not do so again. I called the banners, I made it this far as a boy. From now on, I shall be a man."

"I always believed in you Robb," the woman smiled, her auburn hair giving her a warm glow. "You are Ned's son, he taught you well. But has he taught you enough, my boy? Are you so sure about this?"

"There's no other way mother," Robb replied, quietly.

"And the Lords?" the lady questioned. "Answer me, will they agree to follow you on a fool's mission to capture and take the Red Keep and rescue to girls? Why do you want to do it? If I remember correctly, you were against it." Robb breathed out a sigh and took in a lot of breath. It was no or never, his mother would know now or he would never have the strength to tell her of his confused and yet strong feelings.

"Mother, I meant to tell you, I – " a servant dressed in the Tully colors appeared out of nowhere and bowing low, warily looking at Grey Wind, turned to Catelyn.

"My Lady Stark, your father requests your audience," he bowed again and turned, hoping that the woman would follow.

"Is he well?" the woman asked immediately, shooting her son a pained look and one asking of forgiveness. The adolescent nodded and watched as the two figures left, talking expressively among themselves, the God's wood only slightly disturbed. The silence that was there originally, seemed to reform, covering the wolf and his master in a strange fog that was both comforting and worrisome. Robb thought over what had passed, scolding himself for his loss of control. He shouldn't have ran off into the woods to hack away at his grief, shouldn't have let his emotions go so fast, acting more on impulse rather than thinking it all through. He had enough to deal with without losing his authority in his own troops. Maybe this time, even Grey Wind at his side wouldn't help. Grinding his teeth, subconsciously rolling his hands into fists, Robb glared at the tree where the sword marks were plainly evident and picking up the sword, started back to the castle, the grey beast trotting at his heels.

Sansa tossed and turned, unable to shake away the dream. She was sweating and yet she was freezing, her hair spread like a soft, auburn river over the overstuffed pillows, her arms falling onto more pillows, nearly touching the head board. She was breathing hard, turning her head from side to side, like a wild animal. In her dream she was a wild animal. She turned once more and grew still.

She turned her head, her ears catching the movement in the entrance to the small God's wood, her nose catching a familiar smell. She remained sitting there, her golden eyes looking as her mother, Catelyn, stopped at the entrance to the sacred place and seemed to freeze, looking upon the many lords of the North, all praying silently. Turning back to the front, Sansa blinked and continued to sit, taking in the people's need for prayer, for comfort. She looked to her right and nearly gasped though in her dream that would have been more of a whimper. Robb, dressed in silver armour, plate and chainmail alike, knelt beside her, a sword digging into the earth, his head bowed so that his burgundy curls were mostly visible. A sense of determination vibrated off of him and passed to Sansa, a determination to save...her. She blinked in surprise. She never would have imagined that Robb, her brother with whom she so frequently quarrelled would be so determined to save her.

Slowly, Robb rose as did all the Lords and Sansa, not wanting to leave his side, stood up onto her four legs, her tail slightly curling up, tongue out, rolling to the side. She trotted after him as he walked up to their mother. He sheathed his sword and stopped before her. Sansa noticed their mother's thoughtfulness, no, rather felt it.

"Mother," Robb stopped before her, as did Sansa, "We must call a council. There are things to be discussed." Sansa blinked and slightly turned her head, trying to understand exactly what her brother would discuss. It seemed weird to her that her own imagination wouldn't let her in on the secret.

"Your grandfather would like to see you," the woman replied, somewhat sadly, her mood changing as she spoke of her father. Sansa had heard he was ill but surely, while she was at King's Landing, he did get better right?"Robb, he's very sick."

"Ser Edmure told me," Robb looked down, quiet and sad and Sansa nudged him with her nose, receiving a pat on her fur. She had fur? "I am so sorry Mother...for Lord Hoster and for you. Yet," she shook himself and regained his determination, "first we must meet. We've had word from the South. Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother's crown." Sansa looked up at her brother's face, her mind rushing at what she just heard. Renly? The youngest brother of the dead king? Why not Stannis? Why were they even challenging Joffrey's claim to the throne? He was the next in line, wasn't he?

"Renly?" her mother looked as shocked as Sansa felt, "I had thought, surely it would be Lord Stannis..."

"So did we all, my lady," a lord said and by his sigil, the young girl was able to identify him as Galbart Grover. His smell made her assumption correct. She couldn't understand how, but she knew that he was a friend. Nodding gravely to his words, Robb led their mother to the Great Hall, Sansa now curious following them, stopping a few times to understand where she was and Robb whistling for her. She came, didn't know why but she did. It was strange and yet natural to move on all four legs. She tried to stand up on two a few times but couldn't balance for more than a few seconds. So, she trotted along on four, never leaving Robb for long. She tried to look at her tail and ended up running in a circle, fell a few times when she tried to sprint and instead of being able to make some dancing move, ended up in a tangle on her back, four paws up and her brother and mother looking strangely at her.

"You are acting quite weird Grey Wind," Robb said gently, kneeling before her and ruffling the grey fur. Grey Wind? She wasn't his wolf, was she? But that would explain why she was on all four. She knew she couldn't control where she ended up but she could control how to get there. She could walk at the back of the group, snapping at those who shot her strange glances or she could race ahead and stop suddenly, looking over her shoulder at her brother who's dark, expression, almost her father's expression, would break to reveal a warm smile. And so they reached the Great Hall, Robb taking a seat at the head of the table, Sansa sat down beside him. Not thinking, Robb immediately rested his hand on her fur, running his fingers through it, almost touching the skin underneath. Shuddering, Sansa growled in pleasure. "We'll rescue her...them Grey Wind," Robb whispered as the Lords filled into the space. "We'll avenge Lady's murder, the slaughter of my Father, the fact that they have Sansa captive...We'll kill them all, me and you."

Before Sansa could fully understand his meaning, the last lord came and the large doors were closed. The meeting began. The lords, both those of the North seated on Robb's side and the River lords on her uncle's side argued until late at night. Sansa grew bored at times and had a few naps, always jumping awake when a loud sound echoed through the hall. Through all this, Robb sat almost unmoving, listening, following the immense wall of sounds around him with what seemed only his grey-blue eyes, his expression dark. Sansa's mother sat beside him, looking at the speakers with growing worry. Some were demanding combat, some peace, others would not rest easily until all the Lannisters were killed and the North was separate. Sansa even bared her teeth on reflex a few times when someone mentioned that perhaps someone but Robb should lead them but no one ever agreed to that. Finally Lord Jonos Braken rose to insist that they should pledge their fealty to Renly and march South to join him.

"Renly is not the king," Robb's voice was quiet but just like her father's, it made everyone listen, waiting for what he would say. It was the first time he spoke in the whole evening. He knew how to listen, something that Sansa always valued, just like Arya valued that in Jon. Sansa would always come running to Robb so he could listen and solve her childish problems. Now he was a Lord and yet that didn't make him the blockheaded power-wanting monster Joffrey was.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Glover, as Sansa recognized by smell, said. Instantly, all eyes turned to the young man, even Sansa's golden ones. "He put your father to death."

"That makes him evil," replied Robb, his fingers lightly digging into her fur, wanting her support and strength. "I do not know that it Renly king. Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son so the throne is rightfully his by all the laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey."

"Tommen is no less a Lannister!" a knight snapped forcing Sansa's golden, unnerving gaze to travel to him and her lips lifted to show off the sharp, white fangs. The knight gulped.

"As you say," Robb sounded troubled, "Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis."

Lady Mormont, here to represent her house while her husband was at the Wall and her son in exhile, agreed. "Lord Stannis does have the better claim." Sure, as long as it is proven that Joffrey isn't the rightful king, Sansa though bitterly, which he is.

"Renly is crowned," the same knight countered and Sansa felt her fur standing up slightly. Apparently her companion Grey Wind also didn't like the tone of voice. "High Garden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven houses behind him. Six if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock!" Robb's hand grabbed a handful of fur as he clenched his fist away from view and his jaw clasped tight. "My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?" Sansa bared her teeth again but remained silent. This knight would sell off her brother the same way if he could find a better offer. Now that better offer was Renly.

"The right," Robb replied stubbornly, through clenched teeth. Sansa's heart stopped for a second since he seemed at that moment so much like her father, their father. He's grown in a handsome young man any girl can be proud of, she remarked to herself as she took in his features.

"So you mean for us to declare for Stannis?" their Uncle Edmure asked, looking at Robb with a curious gaze.

"I don't know," Robb said, looking tiered."I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor, and we know that was a lie," Sansa agreed with him there and waited for him to continue, drawn into the discussion opening before her. "But it Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we will be traitors."

"My lord father would urge caution," an aged man, one that she couldn't recognize said with a smile of a weasel. Immediately, Sansa hated him. "Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce," he paused and Sansa finally realised he was a Frey by the badge on his heart, "and the safe return of his son."

"Craven!" a large man yelled, waiving a fist that was missing three fingers. "Begging for a truce makes us seem weak!"

"Why not a peace?" their mother spoke quietly but all the men stopped arguing at once. Sansa felt the whole of Robb's attention shift to their mother, knew that he was looking for any other alternative. But he didn't trust her true intentions.

"My lady, they murdered my lord father, your husband," Sansa felt she knew what he wanted to add, add that they still held her but he restrained himself. Instead, Robb unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him. The steel shone like the fangs Sansa possessed right now. "This is the only peace I have for Lannisters." All the men, starting with the huge one without fingers yelled their approval, called their cries, drew their own swords and axes. They pounded their fists and mugs on the wood and didn't quiet for quite some time. Sansa sat up, glowing with pride and smugness, knowing that her brother was fighting, in fact for her. Yet, at the same time it creped her out. It was strange, knowing what his feelings for her, what they had been. She wanted to love him like he loved her but couldn't. He wasn't Florien, wasn't Ser Loras. He was Robb, her older brother and protector, but could she even ever imagine him as a lover? Sansa found that she couldn't answer.

"My lords," Lady Catelyn started when the men once again quieted, "Lord Eddark was your liege, but I shared his bed and bore his children." Sansa was then happy that she was a wolf for no one could or would ever see her deep blush that came up as her mother said that. Why did it feel to Sansa that it was also referred to Robb and herself? "Do you think I loved him any less than you?" Her mother took in a shaky breath, her face clouded by pain and grief and Sansa felt Robb's own feelings change. He was once again thinking of her...of Sansa. At last Catelyn continued. "Robb, if that sword could bring him back, I should never let you sheathe it until Ned stood at my side once more...but he is gone and a hundred Whispering Woods will not change that. Ned is gone, and Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark's valiant sons, and many other good men besides, and none of them will return to us. Must we have more deaths still?" Before Robb could even open his mouth, the missing-finger man replied.

"You are a woman, my lady," he boomed and Sansa suddenly felt a bit offended. "Women do not understand these things."

"You are the gentle sex," the man who must be Lord Karkstark said and Sansa just wanted to growl. Gentle they may be but that didn't mean they couldn't fight. They didn't want to but they could. She could fight back, she should be fighting back against Joffrey. "A man has a need for vengeance."

"Give me Cersei Lannister,Lord Karkstark, and you will see how gentle a woman could be," Sansa growled, happy that her mother stood her ground, like a Stark should do. How any woman should do before a man. Except Joffrey was just a boy, a stupid boy and not a man. "Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy...but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom." She paused, gathering her thoughts and Sansa could have sword that a tear ran down her cheek. The young girl herself felt like howling but snapping her snout shut, continued listening, faintly aware of Robb's hand on her head.

"Well,one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the Gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

Sansa's heart went out to her mom, who, so plainly and yet effectively was able to make everyone understand her pain and her hope, and yet all of Sansa's attentions were back with Robb. She could read what he was thinking. He remembered the nights he quietly, like a thief, stole into her rooms and sat there, looking at her sleeping form. The one night he was brave enough to kiss her lips and then ran away, scared that she woke up. Sansa never even knew that happened. He remembered all the times he laughed at her but that was because he loved her, she realized. He wanted her and yet he knew that was forbidden. And no one, no one but her and Grey Wind shall ever know this. Robb kept looking at her golden eyes as their great-uncle spoke up.

"Peace," he said quietly, "Peace is sweet, my lady...but on what terms? It is no good hammering your sword into a plowshare if you must forge it again on the morrow."Sansa tried to understand what he was hinting at.

"What did my sons die for, if I am to return to Karhold with nothing but their bones?" questioned Lord Karstark.

"Aye," agreed the knight that so wanted to join Renly. "Gregor Clegane laid waste to my feilds, slaughtered my smallfolk, and left the Stone Hedge a smoking ruin. Am I know to bend the knee to the ones who sent him? What have we fought for, if we are to put all back as before?" Me, Sansa yelped but it came out as a bark. Everyone ignored her.

"And what if the stag prevails? Where would that leave us?" asked another lord. Events were going too fast, Sansa's head was spinning. She desperately wanted to run, kill something, hide in a den, forget this world and yet it was Robb that kept here there.

"Whatever you decide, I shall never call a Lannister my king!" cried the knight that made Sansa's blood boil.

"Nor I!" a young boy, no older than Robb, yelled. "I never will!" And the storm of shouting that was kept at bay for so long by Lady Stark broke out again, deadlier than ever. Sansa felt both Robb's and her mother's dismay, she wanted to howl for she was that close to coming home. Robb listened, quiet, frowning, knowing that he was obliged to do what benefitted them all, not just him. Sansa hated him them, hated that he was so smart as to listen and wait and not be a hot-heated boy who would rush to save her for love.

"MY LORDS!" out of the blue the fingerless man, Greatjon thundered, his voice booming through the hall, making the room quiet. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat and Sansa's jaw fell open, the pink tongue rolling out. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither, Why should they rule me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." He reached back and drew the huge sword. On instinct, Sansa was on her feet, teeth quietly bared, standing between her brother and the large man. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at Robb with the blade, making Sansa snarl and bristle. "There is only one king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords! The King of the North!"

Sansa gasped again, her eyes growing large, opened her snout and...

...sat up, screaming in the dark, a blanket wrapped around her, the dark making her blind and weak. He was breathing hard as the scream faded away. What happened? She felt disoriented, weird in her own body, sad. Why was she sad? She couldn't remember. It was just a nightmare she had, about Robb and her mom. It was nothing, just her mind playing tricks. She couldn't let herself believe it was true. Muffling another scream and a sob, she hid her face in the pillows. Slowly, the dark abysses of sleep drew her in and Sansa forgot all she had witnessed as Grey Wind, forgetting all about Robb's love and ignoring her own thumping heart that came less from fright but more from the realization that she too, loved him.

Thank you so much for reading! This was made as a semi-request! I know that some readers asked for a Sansa and Sandor fic but I couldn't come up with one. And then this popped up into my mind. I had alot of fun writing this fanfic and I hope that none of you kill me since I had Robb fall in love with his younger sister. We all do that to relatives sometimes, just don't go to the same extremes as Jaime and Cersei. Anyway, I hope that you all liked it and reviews, comments and concerns are appreciated! I love having penpals!

Love, Breggo13!